


Weeks West of Normal

by skaralding



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, No Uchiha Massacre, Nonnies Made Me Do It, Rape/Non-con Elements, Shameless Smut, Sibling Incest, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:48:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27615782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skaralding/pseuds/skaralding
Summary: After hearing Sasuke accepting a bet to go without masturbating for a month, Itachi isn’t entirely surprised to find that Sasuke will need his help to complete it.
Relationships: Uchiha Itachi/Uchiha Sasuke
Comments: 32
Kudos: 141





	1. challenge

**Author's Note:**

> Technically no nonny made me do it but I'm putting the tag on ANYWAY. If it wasn't for meme having a no nut november thread I never would have done this!!!
> 
> Seriously though, this is very much porny crack. The background includes no Uchiha massacre, some very briefly handwaved time travel fixit-ing, and Itachi being a stone cold creep. Sasuke meant to be like eighteenish and dumb as a bucket of bricks (or is he). Slowish build, but the porn is real >:]
> 
> (This didn't really need chapters but of course it has them, complete with pretentious lowercase titles. Ahhh, so good)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Only a month, right?”

It was an unreasonable idea. Not masturbating for a month wouldn’t prove anything that hadn’t already been proven by their regular commitments as ninja, and yet…

“You’re on,” Sasuke was saying, in that too-precise tone he used when he was blind drunk, even as Sakura cackled in the background. “Only a month, right?”

“Only?” Naruto said, outrage making his voice even more shrill than normal. “You, you bastard! With how you always are, I bet—no, no, I swear it won’t even be a week, okay?!”

Sasuke smirked. Itachi nearly couldn’t look away; there was something riveting about this version of his brother. The sheer, careless (carefree) arrogance on Sasuke’s face at times like this had long since stopped being soothing, and yet… “What will I win?”

Naruto’s incoherent response was lost in a sudden rise in the music shivering the air around them. Itachi, startled out of yet another nosy bout of eavesdropping, chose that moment to refocus on his drink.

The beer was tasteless now, a stream of weakly fizzing liquid he was only finishing out of stingy habit. The moment it was all gone, Itachi set the bottle back down on its coaster, centred it, and got up from his seat.

Itachi disliked the fact that he couldn’t escape the compulsion to do those things in a precise order, but he disliked the feeling he got when he broke the order even more. Sometimes, he wished he could blame all his neuroses on what he’d done, what he’d had to do to preserve Sasuke’s petty, arrogant certainty in the fact that everything always worked out, but he knew better. He remembered.

This had always been with him, before the blood, the inescapable cough, and the seals. This, and…

“— _all_ your shifts?” Sakura was saying, her eyes wide, her tone incredulous. “Isn’t that kind of reckless?”

“Not if I win,” Sasuke said, his smirk long since replaced by an even more infuriatingly smug smile.

As always, Itachi couldn’t see that smile without wanting to kiss it.

“If?” Naruto said, snidely. “Why not just say ‘when’, you little—”

The music swelled again, and Itachi forced himself to turn away, and to start pushing his way through the tightly packed crowd. It had already been more than an hour; he’d used up today’s time, as well as a bit of tomorrow’s. It wasn’t going to be a good week, if he was starting off like this, already needing to sport a fake face to follow around his younger brother like some particularly delusional fan.

* * *

Two days later, Itachi’s week got a whole lot worse.

He’d just come back from his monthly meeting with Kakashi-senpai, a meeting he usually put off as long as he could, but had been unable to escape attending on time for once, considering that Kakashi was about to leave on a long diplomatic mission. Even now with everything more or less fixed, something about Kakashi’s mild smile made everything feel unreal.

(Itachi didn’t know what was more unsettling, the fact that Kakashi-senpai’s only demand in return for willingly sacrificing himself to the final seal was the delivery of a certain one-eyed madman to the clutches of his past self, or the fact that said self had accepted the appearance of the unconscious body in his apartment without batting an eye.)

Itachi was therefore not in the mood to ponder anything complex or think anything through twice. He snagged himself a bowl of leftovers from the fridge (fried eel, rice porridge, pickles), loped up the stairs, saw the light under Sasuke’s door in the dim hall, and went into Sasuke’s room without knocking.

He’d heard a gasp right as he opened the door, but he still hadn’t really thought…

“Get out!” Sasuke’s voice was choked, partly with embarrassment. He had a magazine spread out over his pillow, and the way he was kneeling under the blanket covering his naked body made it very obvious what he was up to. “Niisan, just—”

“Given up on winning already, otouto?” Itachi couldn’t help but say, snidely. “What’ll Naruto say?”

“Get. Out.”

Itachi knew that was his cue to laugh and leave, letting his restrained chuckle and the quiet snick of the closing door perform as a necessary, if unwanted arousal suppressant. Instead, he found himself setting his back against the side of Sasuke’s doorway, his left hand surrendering control of the open door to his left foot. Even as Sasuke shivered under his blanket, Itachi was already starting to eat again, his left hand controlling the bowl while his right worked the spoon.

Sasuke was furious, and yet he just went on kneeling where he was, frozen before his illicit, yet laughably tame porn. If Itachi focused, he could see the familiar outline of Kuramoto Hana, the current reigning champion of every young man’s wet dreams, spread and smiling in nothing but flowers. “Why are you still in here?”

“Why are you so ungrateful?” Itachi said, his tone thick with innocent earnestness. “Don’t you want to win?”

“That—!” Angrily, Sasuke reached forward and slapped closed the magazine, his hand suspiciously slick. Itachi tried not to make it obvious that he was holding his breath as he watched his brother move into a seated position, still pointedly facing away from him. The back of Sasuke’s neck looked faintly pink. “Niisan, I was drunk that night, okay?”

Drunk enough that he’d come home and slurred about his impending triumph over his friend, no, his stupid rival’s inability to know when to fold. Sasuke had crawled in through Itachi’s window, nearly falling back out onto the rockery beneath in his sluggish attempts at infiltration; Itachi had had to be annoyed and stern and very unconcerned about how much Sasuke kept drooling or slumping onto him, and it had taken a toll.

“…not like it was a serious bet,” Sasuke was saying, now, though he was still avoiding turning to look at Itachi. “Just go away, okay?”

“Two days into thirty, and you already can’t stand it?” Itachi said, raising his eyebrows. Even if Sasuke wouldn’t look at him, the act needed to be perfect. He needed to truly seem concerned. “Otouto, is it—do you really need it that badly?”

Sasuke’s shoulders went up.

“The bet isn’t important,” Itachi continued. “But if things are like this for you, if you’re having a problem controlling… that, then…”

“I’m _not_.”

Itachi knew, now, that he really shouldn’t be doing this. This was the time to let a little amusement sneak into his tone, the time to double down on relentless teasing instead of the kind of sly boundary-testing stratagem his filthy mind spun up whenever he was on his own and masturbating to thoughts he knew he shouldn’t have. “Are you,” he found himself saying, through a dry mouth, “are you still hard?”

He knew he wasn’t going to get anything but disgust, annoyance, or shrill, incoherent rage back in response. Itachi knew that, which was why he was so relaxed, so focused on watching Sasuke’s hunched back and drooping head that he didn’t realize a whole three or so minutes had passed in abject silence.

And then, when he’d realized how long the silence had been, Sasuke said: “So what if I am?”

Itachi’s mouth opened and closed on its own, wordlessly. Sasuke’s words sounded as if they’d leaked out through gritted teeth. Sasuke’s voice was so squeezed, so unsteady that it was clear he was dying from embarrassment.

_This is why I’m not a good brother,_ Itachi thought, as he took the first step towards Sasuke’s hunched, shivering form. _My first instinct isn’t to help, it’s to…_ “Let me see?”

“I don’t, it’s not always—niisan, don’t!”

Sasuke shrank away from the tentative touch on his shoulder, but not by much. If he had any sense, he’d probably be streaking through the door right now, yelling at the top of his lungs for someone to save him.

_I’m not going to do anything,_ Itachi told himself. _I’m only going to look._

And really, over the years, what hadn’t he seen of Sasuke’s body? Sasuke—this innocent, arrogant, careless version of Sasuke—thought him a meddling brocon, someone to be annoyed at and embarrassed by and offended at but never truly angered by. He’d heard Sasuke complaining-slash-boasting about his older brother’s over-protectiveness more than once. Sasuke wouldn’t suspect anything.

“Even with me here, you’re still…?” Sasuke wasn’t, as Itachi had thought, completely naked under the blankets. He was wearing boxers, and his slick, sticky little cock was poking through the unbuttoned gap at the crotch. “Wow.”

Like this, Sasuke looked very much the opposite of the proud young ninja he posed as in public. Even his hair seemed wilted, drooping over his forehead and down the back of his slightly flushed neck. It was all Itachi could do not to ruffle it, not to move the comforting hand he’d laid on Sasuke’s shoulder in a less than comforting manner. “What should I do?” Sasuke sounded as if he’d already forgotten how little he wanted Itachi to see him like this. “Nothing I try ever works.”

“Shame doesn’t do it for you?” Itachi said, struggling to keep his voice calm and soothing. “What about pain?”

“Not when it’s like this,” Sasuke muttered, his voice low and frustrated. “Even cold showers feel good.”

“Huh.”

“Does it—has this kind of thing ever happened to you?”

“No.” Itachi desperately wanted to pretend it had, but that would be over the line. He was already taking this much advantage; any more would be unfair. “Why take the bet, if this…” He took his slightly sweaty hand off Sasuke’s shoulder, gesturing vaguely at Sasuke’s crotch with a flick of his fingers. “If things are this bad, then why risk it?”

Sasuke lowered his head, his jaw working spasmodically. “I was _drunk_.”

“Ah,” Itachi said, forcibly stifling a wave of wicked amusement. “Right.” _People don’t lose control when they’re drunk,_ he wanted to say. _They just do what they don’t think they can get away with while they’re sober._ But saying that wouldn’t make his brother feel any better, and that _was_ Itachi’s purpose right now, despite his secondary, prurient interest in ogling Sasuke’s erection. “You know, maybe the bet isn’t the worst thing, here.”

“What?”

“Maybe it’ll help to have an external goal,” Itachi said. “You know, something to test yourself against.”

“But I don’t want—”

“Think about it,” Itachi said, putting his hand back on Sasuke’s shoulder. He wouldn’t allow himself a squeeze, wouldn’t allow his hand to roam. Just a touch was enough. “Don’t focus on winning or losing, though. Learn yourself. See how it feels to resist the urge.”

“But…”

“If you get really desperate, there’s always technicalities,” Itachi couldn’t help but add. “The bet was only about masturbating, wasn’t it? That doesn’t mean you can’t relieve yourself; it just takes one method for it off the table.”

Sasuke swallowed. “I don’t—I usually just, uh, touch it. For that.”

Itachi knew right away that this was yet another crossroads.

On the one hand, he could be the disgusting yet outwardly decent older brother, and list a few helpful books or magazines that would help Sasuke learn what he wanted to know.

On the other hand… “I’ll help you,” Itachi heard himself say, steadily, in a clear, calming tone. “Okay?”

Finally, Sasuke turned to look at him, eyes wide. “What? What do you—”

“I’ll tell you what to do,” Itachi said, his tone unruffled. “You can trust me for that much, right?”

Sasuke’s mouth worked for a moment, during which Itachi felt his heart beating hard and fast. _He’ll say no,_ he thought. _He **should** say no. It’s way too much. Way over the line._

Instead, Sasuke looked away again, ducking his head into a brief nod.

_Fuck,_ was all Itachi could think. “Alright, otouto,” he heard himself say. “Should we start?”


	2. patience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Patience,_ Itachi had to tell himself, over and over again.

That first time, nothing much happened. Itachi, keenly aware of his brother’s discomfort, excused himself to finish his half-eaten bowl of food. Then, when he returned, he pretended not to notice the musk lingering in the air in Sasuke’s room, or the way Sasuke had put on a tunic and ninja shorts and wouldn’t meet his eye for anything.

It was something of an anticlimax, lecturing about the salient facts of the male reproductive system while pretending not to watch Sasuke squirm. There were high points—coaxing Sasuke into exploring his own tight little ass with a finger, and listening to his low, embarrassed questions as he tried it—but it was still quite a ways off from what Itachi truly craved.

 _Patience,_ Itachi had to tell himself, over and over again. _This is only the beginning._ It was necessary to keep a certain distance, to limit himself to strictly necessary attempts at touch, and to try those only when he was certain it wouldn’t scare Sasuke off.

He was going to be careful, careful so as not to step over the thin line that pushed Sasuke’s perception of his behaviour from ‘educational’ to something less. Something worse. Sasuke, he thought, would be too embarrassed at having needed said education to ever discuss the fine details of it with anyone, but that would only hold true if Itachi kept things within a certain range.

Predictably, later that night, all that outward caution turned to reckless, defiant disregard in Itachi’s dreams.

The scene from earlier on played through again, slowly, from a distant, fixed perspective. In the dream, Itachi watched himself set down the bowl of food almost as soon as he opened Sasuke’s door. He watched himself smile confidently, stepping in and kicking the door shut behind him.

And then he was inside the room, on top of Sasuke’s half naked, struggling body, bloodying his tight hole with feverish thrusts, snarling as he forced himself all the way in and out and in again. Pleasure built within him. Sasuke was pinching down on him so tight that it hurt, and it wasn’t enough, it was never enough, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t hold back. He’d already done the worst possible thing so why not, why not just ruin it all…

As always, Itachi woke from the dream painfully hard. Sweat and precome stained the sheets around his crotch, and he felt as wrung out as if he’d actually—

But he hadn’t. He hadn’t ruined anything, not yet.

* * *

Itachi was therefore understandably cautious when the second educational session finally began two nights later.

“You’ve never used toys, right?” Itachi said, as he opened the small wooden box he’d used to ferry in part of his stash. “Don’t be intimidated, okay? None of this is strictly necessary. It’s often easier to get things done with your own fingers.”

But of course things didn’t play out that way. Itachi had chosen carefully; the things he’d brought today were all small, slim, or otherwise unthreatening at first glance. Sasuke looked both repelled and intrigued as Itachi went over each item’s function and strength, his shoulders relaxing more and more with every new, low-voiced, clinical explanation.

“Anything you want to try?”

“I don’t know,” Sasuke murmured. “I think… is it fine if I try and find that… the, the gland, in my, um…”

“The prostate?” When Sasuke flushed, but nodded minutely, Itachi echoed him. “Of course.”

Last time, Sasuke had insisted on doing it in the bathroom, and that Itachi keep his back turned. This time, it seemed Sasuke had prepared himself ahead of time, washing enough that he felt comfortable.

Itachi still stepped back from the bed and turned around. He’d prepared ahead of time as well; his silent, eager clone wouldn’t miss anything. And meanwhile, he could hear the shift and rustle of Sasuke lying down and getting comfortable.

“Use more lubrication than you think you’ll need,” Itachi said, lowly. “There’s no shame in it.”

In response, Sasuke went still for a bit. Then, moments later, Itachi heard the soft click of the lube bottle being uncapped, followed by the whuff of it being squeezed.

Itachi licked his lips. Sasuke’s slightly sped-up breathing was drowning out every other sound, giving wings to Itachi’s filthy imagination. “Relax,” he murmured. “Take it slow.”

“Ngh.”

“Relax, otouto. It’s not a competition.”

Sasuke let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t see how anyone can come like this,” he muttered. “This isn’t—”

“I’m not going to let you cheat again today,” Itachi said, coolly. “If I turn around, will you have your hand on your dick?”

“…no.”

So, yes.

“It feels… it’s just that it’s weird, having something in there.”

Itachi suppressed the urge to lick his lips; that wouldn’t portray the right attitude. He let out a long, deliberate sigh, giving Sasuke just that much amount of warning, then turned around.

Sure enough, Sasuke froze, caught out with his hand down the front of his boxers. “Niisan! You—what are you doing?!”

“Do you want to fix this?” Itachi came to a stop just out of arm’s reach of the side of Sasuke’s bed. “Do you?”

“We agreed you wouldn’t look,” Sasuke said, shifting toward the opposite side of the bed, panic on his face. “Why should I trust anything you say, when—”

“Why should I do the same for you?”

Sasuke shut his mouth with a discordant click. His chest heaved up and down, his peaked nipples just visible through the fabric of his t-shirt. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Do you really think you need to masturbate to come?”

“Niisan, I don’t _want_ —”

“Don’t you want to be in control?” Itachi yearned to kneel down on the bed, but he didn’t dare try it, not with Sasuke perched on the opposite edge like that, wide-eyed and afraid. “You don’t have to let your body control you. Seriously.”

Tense, unwavering silence.

“I won’t touch you,” Itachi said. “I won’t make fun of you. I know how difficult dealing with this can be, otouto. I just want to help.”

Sasuke shuddered. “It…”

“Hm?”

“It never goes down on its own,” Sasuke blurted out. “I always, I’ve always had to. To do it.”

“Okay,” Itachi breathed. “It’s okay, otouto.”

Then, after Sasuke scrubbed away the tears he would never admit to crying, Itachi slowly sat down on the right edge of the bed, pulling the open box of toys until it was between him and Sasuke, a makeshift, flimsy barrier. “Show me what you tried,” he said, coaxingly. “Don’t worry about it looking or feeling weird, okay? I’ve seen a lot. You won’t shock me.”

Sasuke pursed his mouth and muttered unintelligible things under his breath as he obeyed.

It wasn’t enough.

It was a lot—watching, _guiding_ Sasuke’s trembling, lube-coated finger with careful, strictly verbal orders as he fingered himself was much more than Itachi had ever thought was possible. But it still wasn’t enough.

Sasuke’s skin was a little darker than expected around the rim of his hole. Itachi knew the colour didn’t necessarily indicate anything, but he still couldn’t help but fantasize that it meant Sasuke was deceiving him, that Sasuke’s hole was only shrinking and visibly tight right now because Sasuke had gone without for weeks in order to play the virgin for him.

Sasuke’s moans were everything Itachi wanted. Sasuke kept saying he couldn’t find his prostate, but the sensation of being watched seemed to mingle well with his inherent frustration, and he was soon humping the air with his hips, his thighs flexing, his tight little ass screwing down around the two fingers he’d crammed inside himself.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Itachi found himself saying, hoarsely. “Is it enough?”

“It—ngh—almost—”

“Hold on,” Itachi murmured, unable to help himself. “I’m going to give you something.”

He was good about it too, careful not to ‘mistakenly’ brush his fingers against anything when he finally offered the slim, lubricated vibrator. Sasuke didn’t meet his gaze while accepting it. Itachi had imagined this, had predicted nearly everything about how Sasuke would look (mildly pink was as flushed as his brother ever got), but the actual sight was still a kick in the gut.

 _He looks so needy,_ Itachi thought. _It’s going in so easily, too._ “Good?”

“Nngh…”

“Not too much?”

“N-no. Nnh…” Sasuke’s wrist trembled as he worked that slim, buzzing cylinder into his slick hole. His cock twitched hard as he slid in the final inch before the slight flare at the base of the vibrator. “It… it’s good.”

“Speed okay?”

Sasuke was panting now, overwhelmed. “A bit… ngh!”

Itachi had to force down the urge to move in closer. He had to be content with just this, just watching as Sasuke wriggled in front of him, working the vibrator in and out.

The moment Sasuke was going to come, he went rigid all over, gritting his teeth. He was almost silent. Sperm shot out of his short, twitching prick, spraying all over his upper chest.

The smell hit a moment later, prompting a quiet, desperate swallow from Itachi.

 _Not allowed,_ he told himself, over and over again. He kept his composure somehow, enduring the sights, the sounds, the way Sasuke went limp afterwards, and then cracked open a worried eye to peek at him with.

Itachi was sure that the only thing on his face at that moment was patient acceptance, because Sasuke visibly relaxed. “Better, right?”

Sasuke let out a huff. “It feels weird,” he muttered, sitting up a little, craning his neck so he could look down between his spread thighs. “It even looks…”

_Glorious._

“…king dumb.” By now, he was supporting himself on his elbows, raising his eyebrows at the sight the lower half of the vibrator made sticking out of him. “Look, niisan. I’m giving birth!”

For a moment, Itachi was determined not to react, not to give his stupid, senseless, hopelessly immature younger brother the satisfaction of being amused or offended or anything else. Then another, crueller part of him said: “Looks more like you’re shitting.”

“No way,” Sasuke said, his voice a little louder, his tone confident. “I’m—I’ve given birth,” he insisted, “to this, uh, this stick.” None of the embarrassment he’d been struggling with throughout seemed in evidence when he waggled the vibrator he’d just pushed and pulled out of his asshole in Itachi’s direction. “What should we name it?”

“Not ‘it’,” Itachi said. “She.” Then, having picked up and unfolded one of the small towels that had been in the box he’d brought, he accepted the vibrator with exaggerated care. “Hana-chan.”

Sasuke grinned like he’d gotten away with something. “You’re worse than me,” he said, as he accepted another towel to wipe down with. “Shit, I’d say you’re worse than _Naruto_.”

 _You wouldn’t be wrong,_ Itachi thought. Outwardly, he played along, frowning slightly as he patted dry the vibrator with small, gentle movements. “I’d ask how,” he said, “but I doubt you have anything to say to support that theory.”

And just like that, Sasuke was laughing in short, choked bursts, relaxing opposite Itachi, no longer so very aware of how exposed and vulnerable he’d made himself in front of his brother.

It was a perfect start.


	3. permission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you want to be on your knees, or your back?”

It only took two more times before Sasuke let Itachi touch him.

“Not here,” he said, brusquely, gesturing at his erect cock, as if Itachi was really the one who had to be reminded that Sasuke’s cock was supposed to be off limits for stimulation. “Other places are okay, though.”

“Can’t you just try doing it on your own?” Itachi said, as if his hands weren’t already itching to slide and stroke their way over Sasuke’s skin. As had become usual, Sasuke was only in a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, his strong, lean thighs and calves on display. He’d forgot to take off his socks this time, something that added a ridiculous, endearing note to all of it, a delightful contrast to his serious, slightly nervous expression. “I think I have some fairly gentle nipple clamps.”

“I’ve tried those,” Sasuke muttered. “I don’t like them.”

“Ah.” It was becoming increasingly clear to Itachi what kinds of things Sasuke had tried. Anything that required penetration was out, likely because that seemed to him (and, by logical extension, his friends) a step too far for semi-private, joking experimentation. Things that could be applied externally, though—bullet vibrators, paddles and now, nipple clamps—were all fair game. “You could just do them one at a time, though, while you fill yourself?”

Sasuke didn’t look up, but he also didn’t seem ready to budge. “You know how I am,” he mumbled. “I get too distracted.”

Itachi had to force down the urge to swallow his pooling saliva. Last time, Sasuke hadn’t just got ‘too distracted’; he’d been a moaning, drooling mess, shivering as he let Itachi plunge one of the larger dildos in and out of his clenched ass.

“Fine,” Itachi said, once he knew he had his voice back under control. “I’ll do it.”

He wanted to do more. He always would. But this time, this little allowance, this _permission_ to pinch and fondle Sasuke’s nipples to his heart’s desire… he was already looking forward to it. “Do you want to be on your knees, or your back?”

“Knees.”

As expected, Sasuke didn’t want to see him. Wanted to imagine someone else being the owner of the hands giving him pleasure. The last time, he’d choked out a low, strangled “Naru—” right at the end.

Itachi had flinched, but his arm hadn’t stopped its fierce, directed motions. _Naruto isn’t here now,_ he’d thought, biting the tip of his tongue until he could taste iron at the back of his throat. _You’re too much of a coward to beg him, so you’re stuck begging me._

“Okay,” Itachi said. “Shall I start?”

“Hn.” Which meant yes.

“Do you want to lube yourself up, or should I?”

Silence, when Itachi had been expecting a grumble and the wriggling motion of Sasuke making for the lubricant so he could get that chore over with as soon as possible. “Sasuke?”

“Can…”

“What?”

Silence again. Followed by a long indrawn breath, and a trembling sigh. “I know it’s a bit…”

“You haven’t even asked anything,” Itachi said, coaxingly. _Say it. I know you want it._ “I don’t mind even if it’s weird, as long as it helps you. Okay?” Itachi couldn’t yet justify the brief, comforting stroke his hand made along the slope of Sasuke’s shoulder, but the way Sasuke relaxed beneath his touch told him he’d gotten away with it. “Tell me.”

“I kind of want to try… that,” Sasuke said, his voice muffled by the way he was practically speaking into his pillow. “Fingering.”

“Ah.” Itachi couldn’t keep back a greedy swallow. “Okay.”

“Okay…?”

“Yes. Hand me the bottle.”

“Um. Here.” Their fingers touched, a burning contact Itachi felt in his gut. “Should I take these off?”

“If you want,” Itachi murmured, savouring the slightly heavy sensation of the bottle in his hands. He turned it twice around, ensuring the label was against the fingers of his left hand. He uncapped it with his right hand. He already had a plan in place for the boxers Sasuke had evidently just decided he didn’t want to completely remove; it would be easy as anything to get them uncomfortably sticky.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen Sasuke’s bare ass in this context before, but that had been different, hadn’t it, with him only allowed to look, and barely allowed to touch. Now…

“Spread for me a bit,” Itachi said. “Get comfortable.”

“Hn.”

The bottle made that brief, distinctive whuff as Itachi squeezed a generous dollop or two onto his right hand. “Ah,” he said, as he dripped some onto the waistband of Sasuke’s lowered boxers. “Sorry.”

“S’fine.” And there they went, Sasuke wriggling delightfully as he shoved them the rest of the way off. “Go on.”

“Excuse me.” Itachi knew he probably didn’t need to say that, didn’t need to be so polite about notifying Sasuke that of his impending touch, but he couldn’t help himself. Even with rigorous chakra control in place, Itachi was fully hard. Just the sensation of parting Sasuke’s taut ass cheeks made him feel hungry enough to die. “Let me know if I need to slow down.”

“Oka—aagh!”

“Too much?” Itachi knew it wasn’t, knew the past few days of regular action had left Sasuke pliant enough for rougher entry, especially since Sasuke always insisted on washing and douching beforehand. He still couldn’t help but ask. “Just one finger, first?”

Sasuke shivered. “No.” His hole kept clenching and unclenching around the larger-than-expected intrusion, sucking at the tips of Itachi’s fingers. “It’s…”

“It’s good?”

“Nnh.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s… it’s good.”

He was so warm inside, so tight. Itachi focused acutely on the sensation, on the simple pleasure of each inward stroke. Sasuke was trembling, loosening up around his two fingers, accepting them. It was very difficult to keep his breathing steady. His free hand was fondling the left cheek of Sasuke’s ass, but not so much that it was obvious. He wanted…

Itachi couldn’t have what he wanted.

He’d known that going in, but just now, right now, it was eating at him. It would be—stealing what he wanted would be so easy.

Sasuke had already laid the groundwork for him. If Itachi was careful—no, even if Itachi was reckless, he’d still be able to cover everything up. All he would have to do was layer on a genjutsu, hold it in place while he fucked Sasuke, first with a dildo and then with his own cock. He wouldn’t be able to come inside, since that would be at too much risk of being noticed, but everything else?

“Do you like being fingered, otouto?” Itachi didn’t know how on earth his voice was still so steady. “Does it help?”

“Yh—yeah—”

_Look at how greedily he’s taking it,_ Itachi thought, swallowing again. _The little slut._ He couldn’t bear to switch his attention, but he bet that one glance at Sasuke’s bobbing prick would reveal its leaking, dripping tip, exposing how much Sasuke enjoyed getting fucked.

It ended too soon, well before Itachi had had his fill. One moment, he was squeezing Sasuke’s clenching left cheek, two fingers probing deeply into his brother’s twitching hole, and in the next, Sasuke had gone tellingly stiff all over, tightening down hard.

Sasuke’s low, brief groan as he came was everything Itachi wanted. And yet not enough.

“Satisfied?”

“Yeah,” Sasuke said, sighing loudly. “You’re really good at that.”

Typically, it was only at that moment that Itachi realized he’d been so absorbed in playing with Sasuke’s ass that he’d forgot he had permission to do even more. Hearing Sasuke compliment his technique while slowly sitting up, exposing the taut brown nipples that were now thoroughly off limits, only lowered Itachi’s mood even more. “Honoured to hear it,” was his eventual, stiff response.

“Niisan, I meant—I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just saying.”

A better person would have sighed and waved off that unnecessary apology. But Itachi wasn’t one, and so he only acknowledged it with a neutral, quiet “Hn.”

* * *

Things deteriorated after that. Itachi half expected Sasuke to avoid him just based on how awkwardly the last session had ended, but instead…

“Does it feel good being fucked?”

It was still only fingers, Itachi’s greedy, wicked fingers, but Sasuke had evidently grown comfortable enough taking two that he now often clamoured for three. He didn’t even get distracted anymore while being worked; the nonsense Itachi had spouted at the beginning about gaining control over his body’s desires seemed to be something he’d taken to heart enough to practice in his spare time.

Now that Sasuke was clear-headed even in the midst of extreme arousal, it made everything more difficult. Every one of Itachi’s considered actions was only gone through with after careful deliberation, and it took something away from the experience, having to focus so hard on keeping up a cool front while knowing Sasuke might not even care enough to be watching him.

“Niisan,” Sasuke said, his eyes narrowing a little, “has anyone ever told you your mouth is kind of dirty, during it?”

Itachi gave him a cold look, despairing within at the ill luck that made Sasuke decide he wanted to be on his back today. “What,” Itachi said, “you expect me to be polite?”

“Nnh—no, but…”

“But what?”

“It’s _weird_.” That Sasuke could sound so self-righteously judgemental with his eyes half-closed and his needy asshole gobbling up three of Itachi’s slippery fingers… “It’s just me, you know? You don’t have to act.”

Itachi had thought his breaking point would be special, somehow. That it would come hand in hand with ominous tides of lust, with Sasuke naked and trembling piteously at his feet, and a slowly closing door that locked itself with an automatically activated trap mechanism, and various other sorts of set dressing and dialogue and evil prior preparations.

Instead, it was very simple.

One moment, Itachi was completing his self-inflicted, self-indulgent, carefully restricted duty to ‘help’ Sasuke wean himself off of compulsive masturbation. In the next…

“Niisan, what—mmph!”

It began with a kiss. Sasuke, shocked, tried to avoid it. All he did was open himself up to sloppy licks and sucks on his cheek, his earlobe, and on the side of his neck.

“Look at me,” Itachi said. “Look.” He had to curl his fingers into Sasuke’s hair and force his brother to turn to meet his gaze. “I won’t act, okay? From now on.”

“Wh—hngh!”

All Itachi needed to do was settle in just right, pressing his cloth-covered erection against the bare skin of Sasuke’s thigh. That sudden exclamation from Sasuke was the result, that and the clench of Sasuke’s hole around his invading fingers.

“I’m going to fuck you.” Itachi had imagined saying those words in many ways. Tenderly. Angrily. Calmly. He’d imagined whispering excuses, imagined telling Sasuke just how much he owed him. But Itachi had never imagined the blank, yet gloating tone of voice that had just come out of his mouth. “I—” _I don’t care what you want,_ was what was due next. _I don’t care if you really want it._

Itachi couldn’t say it.

“Niisan,” he heard Sasuke say, in a thin, incredulous tone. “You aren’t—you’re really…” Sasuke was trembling. He’d even gone a little soft. “Wow. Look, you don’t have to… you can just stop, okay? If you don’t want to anymore, you can—”

“Shut up.” Itachi couldn’t say he didn’t care what Sasuke wanted. Acting on that awful principle was another, much easier matter. “Did you not hear what I said?”

“Niisan, I, I heard—”

“Repeat it.” Itachi had already withdrawn his fingers. His hands were shaking as he unbuttoned himself. Sasuke’s shock as he saw that was both bitter and sweet. “Don’t make me ask you again.”

Sasuke’s mouth moved without making a sound. He licked his lips, something Itachi noted with detached, prurient appreciation, identifying and dismissing that one gesture as one born from mere nerves. _He doesn’t really want it,_ Itachi told himself. _You can’t forget that._

But that didn’t mean he was going to stop.


	4. fever (end)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You knew I wasn’t doing this out of duty.”

“You can’t say it?” Itachi said, despite it only having been a minute since Sasuke last spoke. “I’ll say it for you, then.”

Funnily enough, that got a response, a low, choked, nearly unintelligible: “Niisan, don’t.”

“This isn’t an act.” These words would destroy everything, and yet Itachi could not help but feel a weight off his chest as he said them, a weight laid down forever. “I want to fuck you.” Sasuke shook his head, hard, as if doing that could keep him from hearing what Itachi was saying. “You knew I wasn’t doing this out of duty.” Sasuke flinched as Itachi’s hands stroked down the inside of his thighs. “You knew, right?”

Sasuke, breathing heavily, tried to inch away, only to be dragged right back. “I didn’t—”

“You understand me.” Now that he could touch Sasuke all he wanted, Itachi barely knew where to start. He didn’t know how he would get enough, doing it just this once, the only time Sasuke was shocked enough to let him do whatever he wanted. His right hand ghosted up Sasuke’s bare, heaving chest, then took hold of Sasuke’s chin. “Right?”

The kiss that followed was bloody. Itachi didn’t mean it to be, wanted to try to be gentle, but Sasuke wouldn’t cooperate. He bit Itachi’s tongue, really _bit down_ , and so after that Itachi didn’t—couldn’t—

Gods, the taste of Sasuke’s mouth. Iron and salt. Itachi couldn’t help but let his hands wander. Sasuke struggled, but his shock slowed his movements, and they were chest to chest, far too close together for him to properly fend off Itachi’s predatory touch.

When Itachi pressed his hips against Sasuke’s, he felt his brother’s breath catch. When he managed to pinch a nipple, that got an exaggerated flinch, followed by another once he sucked on the side of Sasuke’s neck. It was all too easy to make use of those reactions to firmly settle his cock between Sasuke’s spread ass cheeks.

“No,” Sasuke cried out. Itachi hadn’t even thrust all the way in yet. “Not…”

“Not what?” Itachi’s voice was ragged. “Aren’t you still hard?” His hole was tight and sweet around the head of Itachi’s cock. He could take it. He would take it. “Pretend, okay? Pretend I’m Naruto.”

“ _No!_ ”

Itachi didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate. _I will never have this again,_ he thought. _It’s worth it._

He still hated himself. Sasuke yielded beneath him, around him. Sasuke clung to him. All the days he’d spent on training Sasuke to take it in the ass were paying off splendidly, and he felt like shit.

He felt glorious.

Half-meant apologies kept sticking in his chest. Sasuke moved beneath him, _with_ him, sobbing, enjoying it, matching his rhythm even while cursing in garbled grunts. “I’m sorry, otouto,” Itachi finally said, meaning it not at all. “It feels good, right?”

Sasuke bit into the side of his neck, and that just made it better. Sasuke’s mouth on him, in any way at all—Sasuke’s tight, clenching hole was trying to force him out, and only working him instead, sucking in the whole aching length of his cock like it was made for it—

“Shut up,” Sasuke hissed, against his throat. “I’m not, I’m not, I’m _not_ —”

“Slut,” Itachi shot back. “My worthless little slut.” That Sasuke flinched beneath him and tightened down even more sent a shiver of pleasure through him. “That’s right. Just like that.”

He’d never thought it would feel this good. Sasuke was perfect. Sasuke was whining in the back of his throat, his body stiffening the way it always did when he was about to come. Itachi let out a low, needy groan, thrusting in harder, careful to hit the right angle, to force his brother over the edge whether he wanted it or not.

The final clench should have been enough, that and the sudden splash of wetness up onto Itachi’s chest. Sasuke had come, and he had come a lot, and he was looking down his stained, jolting body, his terrified gaze fixed on the place they were joined. Then, with a sob, Sasuke closed his eyes tightly, as if not seeing anything would make what was happening disappear.

_That_ was enough.

“I’m going to come,” Itachi muttered, bending in even lower, pressing his lips against Sasuke’s ear. “I’m going to fill you up.” And then he was doing it, thrusting in to the hilt, his body arching as he poured spurt after spurt into Sasuke’s clenching hole.

_Over already, huh,_ some petulant part of Itachi thought. He felt too wrung out to even think of trying to go at it again immediately, much as he wanted to. Someone more sensible would probably think that once was enough, but then again, someone more sensible wouldn’t be balls deep inside their sobbing, shivering younger brother.

Not that Sasuke was sobbing out loud, precisely. He wasn’t really making a sound, but the way he’d turned his head to the side, the way his eyes were still shut tight, the way his body was trembling in Itachi’s grasp? All that added up to “I’m crying and I don’t want him to know”.

Knowing that didn’t stop Itachi from stroking an appreciative hand through Sasuke’s hair. _That’s right,_ he half wanted to say. _Your niisan’s this much of an animal._ As if Sasuke hadn’t already guessed it by now.

“You,” Sasuke said, his voice small and strangled, “you get off me.”

_Should I?_ Itachi thought, even as he moved to obey, taking a moment to savour the sensation of pulling out. It hurt a little—his cockhead was always annoyingly sensitive after he came—but it felt so satisfying, so _forbidden_ to even be in this position. He knew smiling would be inappropriate, and yet he couldn’t keep one from forming.

Naturally, Itachi’s smile was the first thing Sasuke saw when he opened his damp, angry eyes.

Somehow, though Itachi expected any number of violent reactions to that, all that happened was Sasuke turning his head pointedly away, and saying, in an even smaller, angrier voice: “Get _off_.”

Itachi froze. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, what was going through his mind as he did so. “Is that it?” he found himself saying, as if he wanted, no, _craved_ the more concrete rejection so much that he wished it would happen immediately. “I raped you, and in the end—”

“ _Get off!_ ”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Itachi said, rolling leisurely off to the side, another terrible smile on his face. “So… next Sunday?”

Sasuke threw the box at him. It missed by a hand or so; it hadn’t been supposed to hit. It made Itachi’s smile deepen even though he was trying to get rid of it, trying to not continue to be the utter animal his brother now knew he was. This should have been a serious, raging, emotional moment, and instead, here he was, silently picking up the dildos, clamps and vibrators that had clattered onto Sasuke’s bedroom floor.

Worse, rather than thinking up ever more elaborate, yet utterly useless apologies, Itachi kept eyeing his brother’s slumped, defeated body and thinking, like the animal he was: _I bet he’d let me do it again._

When the box was finally full again, and Itachi’s cock was clean enough that he didn’t feel itchy pulling on his briefs and trousers, Itachi licked his lips and tried to get things back on track. “I won’t say I’m sorry,” he said, bluntly. “I’m not.”

Silence.

“Hate me as much as you want.”

More silence.

Itachi didn’t know where he got the courage to approach the side of the bed Sasuke had sprawled on. “Is your lip al—”

Sasuke reared up and hit him so hard that his back was against the wall even as the pain kicked in. Itachi heaved, struggling to keep from throwing up, delighted and horrified and delighted again. _I didn’t break him,_ he thought, even as he slumped forward over Sasuke’s shaking fist.

“—have to… that,” Sasuke was saying, his voice so unsteady each word ran into the other. “You… ’s disgusting? You know that, right?”

Now, of course, his words were clearer.

“I didn’t want to do this!” Sasuke was right beside his ear now, his voice an odd mix of over-loud whisper and outraged shout. “You made me!”

“I…” Itachi gulped. “I know.”

“You made me! You kept—you kept _asking_! You made it sound…”

“Huh?”

“…you started it!” Sasuke shook, his hands fisting into Itachi’s half-open shirt. “You started everything! It wasn’t me! I’m not—I’m not the one who’s a fucking slut!”

Those words… Itachi didn’t know if the ache in his gut, courtesy Sasuke’s unexpected fist applied to that region, was somehow distorting the words he was hearing. Twisting them into something strange, something his already twisted mind would like to hear a lot more than the recriminations he definitely deserved.

“Okay,” Itachi said, tentatively. “I’m, uh. Hngh.” Sasuke had just slumped forward, forcing him to take on his brother’s sobbing, hyperventilating weight. “I’m the slut, okay? I’m… it’s all my fault.”

Sasuke just went on muttering under his breath, clutching at Itachi even as Itachi carefully steered him back towards his bed. _Maybe I **did** break him,_ Itachi mused, taking the chance to examine the few marks he’d left on Sasuke’s body. Sasuke’s lip was the worst of it, and wasn’t as bad as it had seemed in the heat of the moment, with blood running into both their mouths.

And, better yet, when Itachi gave into one more, wicked urge and let himself stroke a hand into Sasuke’s disordered hair, Sasuke leaned into the touch.

And then opened narrow, angry eyes and said, emphatically: “You’re the slut.”

Itachi’s heart beat heavily in his chest. He nodded.

He stood there, frozen, hardly daring to believe what he was feeling. He breathed in and out, the slightly musky scent of the cool air in the room adding yet another touch of unreality to the moment.

When Sasuke closed his eyes and pressed his head harder against Itachi’s trembling hand, there was no way to mistake the motion for what it was.

Itachi could barely even bear to breathe now, let alone say anything. _This is real,_ he kept thinking. _Even after what I did, he’ll still… he wants me to touch him._

When Sasuke finally said something, though, all it did was pour cold water on that fanciful idea. “This once,” he said, “just this once, I’ll let it go.”

A normal person would have backed down at this point. Itachi smiled. “Once?” he murmured, tightening his grip on Sasuke’s hair. “You think it’ll only be this once?”

Then, savouring the shudder that low, precisely spoken sentence sent through Sasuke, Itachi bent in for another attempt at a kiss. Sasuke jerked back from him, trying to twist away, only to stop with a marked shiver when Itachi pinched his right nipple.

“Don’t,” Sasuke whispered. But this time, he didn’t bite down on Itachi’s invading tongue. He moaned in the back of his throat when Itachi sucked on his bottom lip.

_Sure enough,_ Itachi thought, feeling a dark rush of satisfaction, _his reactions are much more honest than his words._

* * *

Later that night, as Itachi filled his brother’s tight little ass for the second time that day, he felt even more convinced he’d made the right series of decisions this month.

Without barging into Sasuke’s room unannounced, he’d never have understood how much need his brother was hiding.

Without crossing the line in the course of ‘helping’ Sasuke overcome his problem, it would have been harder to end up like this, with Itachi on top of him, Itachi able to see his dazed, nearly drooling expression.

Without spying on Sasuke at the start of the month, Itachi wouldn’t have thought so much when Sasuke told him about the ridiculous bet. He wouldn’t have bothered to press, and would therefore have missed the chance to take a good look at his brother’s secret weakness. _All in all,_ Itachi thought, between ragged breaths, _I’m lucky. I’m really lucky._ “Beg for it,” he rasped out, savouring the way those crude words made Sasuke flinch. “What, you don’t want to?”

“Y-you…” Sasuke’s brows scrunched up, but his mouth was half open, ruining the effect of his attempted frown. “You’re—you’re making me…”

“Mmm.” Saying that when he was this hard, who was he trying to fool? “I’m forcing you.” Itachi knew, by now, to expect the slight but marked tightening of Sasuke’s slick hole around his aching cock; somehow, he managed to maintain his serious expression, rather than giving in to a smug grin. “You’ll have to put up with it.”

Then, some moments later, Itachi said: “Beg me for it.”

When the demand met only with incoherent whimpers, Itachi repeated it in a low, steady tone: “Beg me, otouto, or I’ll stop.”

“Please,” Sasuke choked out, almost immediately. “ _Please_.”

It was the most beautiful thing Itachi had ever heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, an extra from Sasuke's POV >:D


	5. knowledge (extra)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sasuke knew there was something wrong with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that there's a brief, explicit Sasuke/Kiba bit at the start if that'll bother you. Otherwise, enjoy the show ;D

Sasuke knew there was something wrong with him. He didn’t understand how everyone kept missing it, kept seeing the thing in him as proof of different, much less thorny problems.

“Getting embarrassed over just that?” Kiba said, one morning after a particularly embarrassing end to their usual midweek spar. “C’mon, it’s not like we’re thirteen anymore, right? Just come here.” Kiba’s toothy grin as he dragged Sasuke closer to him was the same as ever. “Let me help.”

A normal person would have shrugged him off. Or they’d maybe have felt a little embarrassed, if they were into it, and would only have allowed Kiba a few quick, teasing strokes before they insisted on moving things to a much less exposed location.

But Sasuke wasn’t normal, so he just stood there, glaring at nothing, trying desperately not to pant like the disgusting slut he always was at times like this.

“Look at you,” Kiba murmured. “You really need to get it more. Isn’t healthy, y’know,” and Sasuke couldn’t help but shudder as Kiba’s fingers tugged on his balls, “holding it in until just being under someone else gets you ready to blow.”

_It wasn’t being under you,_ Sasuke thought, snidely. _It’s your fucking cologne._ Or, more precisely, the glaring lack of it. It wasn’t as much of a problem on mission, when everyone around him smelled like blood or shit or sweat or rotting vegetation, but whenever he was back in the village, it was a straight up trial.

Girls were easier to deal with. Girls usually had some kind of routine, a favourite shampoo or low-key perfume that changed how they smelled. But guys? Apart from a few outliers, the other ninety-nine percent of all adult male ninja smelled like the dull, uncanny hint of not-quite-lemon the standard soap left behind. Not-quite-lemon and weapon oil. Not-quite-lemon and not-quite-lemony sweat.

Something about that scent had always done things to Sasuke. It was something he’d initially been confused by, given the way he’d seen his peers stumble through their own jolts of attraction. _I can’t really just be attracted to a fucking smell,_ he’d used to think, five years ago, while pretending to listen to Naruto whine about how girls kept throwing themselves at him when he could only barely match their names to faces.

Even back then, he’d already known. He’d ignored the way that one smell made him feel as much as possible. He’d done his best to model what people expected. _‘Anything works.’_ _‘A hole’s a hole.’_ _‘Tits, dick, legs, ass, all of it’s good.’_

“Are you close?” Kiba said, his roughened breaths hot against the side of Sasuke’s neck. The scent of his sweat was overpowering, familiar, close to perfect but not quite it. And yet, even with that gap, it was what Sasuke needed, what Sasuke craved. Kiba was always willing; Sasuke didn’t have to do more than get hard when it was just the two of them to provoke another attempt at scratching his eternal itch.

It was better than nothing. Which was good, since nothing was all Sasuke would ever get.

“There you go,” Kiba murmured, swallowing thickly, his hand tightening around Sasuke’s spurting cock. Had they not been outdoors, Sasuke was certain he’d have ducked down to lick up every last drop of Sasuke’s come. Which was always alright, since that gave Sasuke yet another tantalizing image of a dark-haired man sucking on his cock. Kiba’s hair wasn’t quite the right length, but it was close enough that Sasuke never, ever turned a blowjob from him down.

Close enough. Good enough. Not enough, and yet…

“What, I don’t have to beg you this time?” Kiba said, his grin a thing Sasuke could hear more than see, with Kiba’s body this close. “Shit, is it my birthday?”

“Shut up.” Sasuke, a connoisseur of very many different styles, prided himself on his hand technique. You couldn’t sleep with as many people as he did without picking a few things up, not if you wanted the ones you liked (the ones that were tall enough, dark-haired enough, and smelled almost right) to keep smiling when you came back around. “Fast, or slow?”

“Do your fucking worst,” Kiba said, and soon he was shuddering and twitching nicely, his ass clenching under Sasuke’s unforgiving grip. Sasuke loved the way the other man reacted to being grabbed there, the way he’d try to squirm away at first and then start rocking back into the firm, caressing.

Sometimes, Sasuke wished he could allow himself that, but he knew very well why he couldn’t. That he was already this sensitive, this needy, this _desperate_ just from the right smell and some friendly pressure on his dick, that was already bad enough. He didn’t need any other cravings, any other things his mind and his body couldn’t stop wanting from a source that would never, ever, _ever_ give it up.

It was better to be in control.

* * *

Control went out the window almost immediately the moment It Happened, the moment Sasuke’s unspoken fantasy finally came into messy, horribly embarrassing fruition.

One moment, Sasuke was well along on the road to another shamefully satisfying orgasm, lost in garbled thoughts of the woman on the centrefold in front of him on her knees and taking it hard from a familiar, carefully shadowed form, and in the next, he’d been caught, just like he’d always dreamed of. Caught by Itachi, the one person he really, really, _really_ didn’t want to catch him.

For a few moments, Sasuke considered unsealing his backup kunai and stabbing himself to death.

_I want to be caught,_ he’d used to think, when he was younger and stupider, but the reality was wave after wave of searing humiliation. Concern, delicately spiced with amusement.

And all the while, arousal pooled in Sasuke’s belly. His cock ached. He didn’t know how to sit. Every inch he moved made it worse (better, _worse_ ). He felt like only a couple of strokes would have him spraying everywhere, right under the mocking gaze of his older brother, and he didn’t want that to happen, he couldn’t let it, he could not be this desperate, he couldn’t…

“…are you still hard?”

_Yes,_ part of Sasuke wanted to moan. _Touch me._

He was well-versed in strangling those kinds of thoughts. He thought he knew how to exit this—this—situation. _Niisan’s always nicer when I get pathetic,_ Sasuke thought. _Just a bit of that…_

But instead of backing off, Itachi only pressed forward.

He _looked_.

His hand was heavy on Sasuke’s shoulder, comfort and torment both.

He wanted to help. He said he wanted to help, and all Sasuke could think was that, as always, Itachi would want to give over that help in a hands-on manner.

_Don’t,_ one part of Sasuke was screaming, but he had already nodded.

_What’s a little more risk?_ he thought, when Itachi left, bowl in hand. _I’m already this desperate._

It took more than three strokes for him to come, but that was only because he was stalling, wringing fierce pleasure out of each slow, slick motion. _He’ll smell what I’ve done,_ Sasuke thought, finally, as he shot all over the crumpled wad of his boxers. _He’ll know._

* * *

Fingering himself in front of Itachi was the beginning of the end.

It was too much.

Sasuke had thought the very real discomfort that came with penetration for him back there would blunt the effect Itachi’s presence had on him. Instead, it simply magnified everything he was feeling, until Sasuke didn’t dare move the finger inside him.

“Try to relax,” Itachi said, soothingly, and so Sasuke was forced to hold it in, to steady his breaths until tears pooled in his eyes and all he wanted to do was come, scream, and come again.

He held on. He was proud of that, proud of how his voice only wavered a little as he complained about how weird his finger felt. Only when it had been at least ten minutes of supposed stimulation did he give into the tearing urge to finish himself off with quick, brutal strokes.

He didn’t know what made him feel worse, the almost tangible pleasure of shooting all over his hand behind Itachi’s pointedly turned back, or the fact that Itachi obviously knew what he was doing, but was just as pointedly ignoring it.

“You’ll do better next time,” were Itachi’s parting words. Sasuke could only nod, all while wishing he was the kind of person strong enough to turn down another chance at this.

* * *

Sasuke set rules for himself every couple of days, only to instantly break them.

_I don’t get to have him watch,_ he thought, only to let his brother turn around and supervise his ‘practice’ without anything more than a token complaint.

_Touching is off the table,_ he thought, and two sessions after that, he was lying that he really was tired of thrusting the dildo into himself. Itachi didn’t touch him directly, but it was almost as good as that, almost better.

The very next session, he begged for Itachi to finger him.

_You can’t look at him_ turned into Sasuke deliberately starting more sessions lying on his back, as if missing even a second of Itachi’s calm, almost clinical bearing would kill him.

Sasuke stopped setting himself rules after that, committing to trying to act how he should instead, while getting the things he couldn’t do without. That was easier; that, he had more than enough practise in that he could substitute the name he called out while he came without even thinking.

Itachi had always assumed something was going on with him and Naruto or Sakura, as if wading hip-deep through stinking mud to find their lucky kunai or smelling their disgusting farts while on stakeout would somehow translate into wanting to fuck one or both of them more than once. Annoying as those assumptions were, they were awfully useful at times like this.

“Thanks, niisan,” Sasuke often said, at the end of each session, when he knew he should be apologizing. “This is really helping me.” It wasn’t true, but it was the least he could say to try and clear away the small, strained frown on Itachi’s face that appeared whenever they’d just finished a session.

Sometimes, all that grateful, carefully spoken lie did was deepen Itachi’s frown instead. Every time Sasuke saw that, the anxious knot that was nearly always present in the pit of his stomach these days seemed to twist in on itself a little harder.

_It’s only a couple more weeks,_ he’d tell himself. _He’ll be safe from me once the deadline’s up._ Even if Sasuke’s willpower continued to fail him at the end of the month, at that point, Itachi would likely insist on him seeing a doctor and taking other, similar concrete actions to solve his issues.

And in that roundabout fashion, this crazy month might just end up helping Sasuke. There was nothing like the guilt of knowing how far you would go to get something you shouldn’t have to push you towards being honest about it in your twice-weekly psychological assessments.

* * *

It was in the midst of the third week that it all fell apart.

Afterwards, all Sasuke could remember was Itachi’s first, violent thrust, and the raw feeling of shame that had drowned him as he accepted it.

_It **should** hurt,_ he’d kept thinking, desperately. _I seduced him, I pushed him, I deserve it, I deserve worse…_

Even so, he’d come in thick jets, spurting his filthy seed all over his chest and stomach, the force of the spray so strong that some ended up splashing up onto Itachi as well. The pleasure and agony of seeing it happen—feeling it—made Sasuke want to die.

He tried damage control, but he knew it wasn’t working almost immediately. The way Itachi kept looking at him, smiling down at him, nodding along to his frantic, incoherent, blame-shifting outburst…

_I’ve fucked up,_ he thought, and when Itachi put a hand on his head, Sasuke fucked that up too by leaning into that perversely reassuring touch. _I have to fix this. I **have to**._ “This once,” he said, trying to keep the desperation out of his already unsteady tone, “just this once, I’ll let it go.”

Itachi’s cool gaze and faint, mocking smile told him that final attempt wasn’t enough. “Once?”

Sasuke didn’t hear anything else. He was too shaken by the ugly note in his brother’s voice, by the sudden strength Itachi was using to hold him close, and by the implication presented by those signs.

Even before Itachi bent in, Sasuke was expecting the kiss.

He didn’t fight it.

**Author's Note:**

> Annnnnd that's a wrap. Tell me what you thought :D?


End file.
